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In pre-Revolution Paris, the Marquise de Merteuil plots revenge against her ex-lover, the Comte de Bastide, who has recently ended their relationship. To soothe her wounded pride and embarrass Bastide, she seeks to arrange the seduction and disgrace of his young virgin fiancée, Cécile de Volanges. She has only recently been presented to society after spending her formative years in the shelter of a convent.

Merteuil calls on the similarly unprincipled Vicomte de Valmont to do the deed, offering him her own sexual favors as a reward. Valmont declines, as he is plotting a seduction of his own: Madame de Tourvel, the chaste, devoutly religious wife of a member of Parliament, currently a houseguest of Valmont's aunt, Madame de Rosemonde. Merteuil is amused and incredulous. Never one to refuse a challenge, Valmont modifies the proposal: If he succeeds in sleeping with Tourvel, Merteuil must sleep with him as well. Merteuil accepts, on the condition that he furnish written proof of the liaison.

Tourvel rebuffs all of Valmont's advances. Searching for leverage, he instructs his page Azolan to seduce Tourvel's maid Julie to gain access to Tourvel's private correspondence. One of the letters he intercepts is from Madame de Volanges, Cécile's mother and Merteuil's cousin, warning Tourvel that Valmont is a nefarious and untrustworthy individual. On reading this, Valmont resolves to seduce Cécile after all, as revenge for her mother's accurate denunciation of him.

Meanwhile, in Paris, Cécile meets the charming Chevalier Raphael Danceny, who becomes Cécile's music teacher. Slowly, with coaxing from Merteuil (who knows that Danceny, a poor commoner, can never qualify as a bona fide suitor), they fall in love.

After gaining access to Cécile's bedchamber on a false pretense, Valmont rapes her as she pleads with him to leave. On the pretext of illness, Cécile remains locked in her chambers, refusing all visitors. A concerned Madame de Volanges calls upon Merteuil to speak to her. Cécile, naively assuming that Merteuil has her best interests at heart, confides in her. Merteuil advises Cécile to welcome Valmont's advances; young women should take advantage of all the lovers they can acquire, she says, in a society so repressive and contemptuous of women. The result is a "student-teacher" relationship; by day, Cécile is courted by Danceny, and each night she receives a sexual "lesson" from Valmont. In the meantime, Merteuil begins an affair with Danceny.

Meanwhile, Valmont somehow manages to win Tourvel's heart—but at a cost: the lifelong bachelor playboy falls in love. In a fit of jealousy, Merteuil mocks Valmont and threatens to trash his reputation as a carefree gigolo. She also refuses to honor her end of their agreement, since Valmont has no written proof that the relationship has been consummated. Valmont abruptly dismisses Tourvel with a terse excuse: "It is beyond my control". Cécile, meanwhile, after a night in Valmont's bed, miscarries his child.

Tourvel, overwhelmed with grief and shame, retreats to a monastery where her health deteriorates rapidly. Valmont warns Danceny of Merteuil's ulterior motives in seducing him; Merteuil retaliates by informing Danceny that Valmont has been sleeping with Cécile. Danceny challenges Valmont to a duel, and mortally wounds him. With his dying breath, Valmont asks Danceny to communicate to Tourvel—by now near death—his genuine love for her. He gives Danceny his collection of intimate letters from Merteuil; all of Paris learns the entire range of her schemes and depredations. Humiliated at the opéra by her former friends and sycophants, Merteuil flees the city in disgrace. Cécile, guilt-ridden, returns to the convent to become a nun.

Pauline Kael in The New Yorker described it as "heaven – alive in a way that movies rarely are."[13] Hal Hinson in The Washington Post wrote that the film's "wit and immediacy is extraordinarily rare in a period film. Instead of making the action seem far off, the filmmakers put the audience in the room with their characters."[14]Roger Ebert called it "an absorbing and seductive movie, but not compelling."[15]Variety considered it an "incisive study of sex as an arena for manipulative power games."[16]Vincent Canby in The New York Times hailed it as a "kind of lethal drawing-room comedy."[17]

Glenn Close received considerable praise for her performance; she was lauded by The New York Times for her "richness and comic delicacy,"[17] while Mick LaSalle of the San Francisco Chronicle wrote that, once she "finally lets loose and gives way to complete animal despair, Close is horrifying."[13] Roger Ebert thought the two lead roles were "played to perfection by Close and Malkovich... their arch dialogues together turn into exhausting conversational games, tennis matches of the soul."[15]

Michelle Pfeiffer was also widely acclaimed for her portrayal, despite playing, in the opinion of The Washington Post, "the least obvious and the most difficult" role. "Nothing is harder to play than virtue, and Pfeiffer is smart enough not to try. Instead, she embodies it."[14] The New York Times called her performance a "happy surprise."[17] Roger Ebert, considering the trajectory of her career, wrote that "in a year that has seen her in varied assignments such as Married to the Mob and Tequila Sunrise, the movie is more evidence of her versatility. She is good when she is innocent and superb when she is guilty."[15] Pfeiffer would later win a British Academy Film Award for her performance.

The casting of John Malkovich proved to be a controversial decision that divided critics. The New York Times, while admitting there was the "shock of seeing him in powdered wigs", concluded that he was "unexpectedly fine. The intelligence and strength of the actor shape the audience's response to him".[17]The Washington Post was similarly impressed with Malkovich's performance: "There's a sublime perversity in Frears' casting, especially that of Malkovich... [he] brings a fascinating dimension to his character that would be missing with a more conventionally handsome leading man."[14]Variety was less impressed, stating that while the "sly actor conveys the character's snaky, premeditated Don Juanism... he lacks the devilish charm and seductiveness one senses Valmont would need to carry off all his conquests".[16]